God’s Peace

Readings
Isaiah 40.1–8
Psalm 85.1–2, 8–13
Mark 1.1–8

The journey has begun. The journey in time and out of time, which will lead us through the expectation, the anticipation, the now-and-not-yet-ness of Advent, towards God-with-us at the incarnation. A one-time only journey, yet lived each year, drawing us towards the beginning of the temporal life of the eternal God, and a journey that invites us into reflection as we wait for the apocalypse — the ap-ok-alup-tein, the revelation, the uncovering — of God come among us. — Carys Walsh, Frequencies of God: Walking through Advent with RS Thomas

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‘Advent’ means ‘coming’. The Advent God is the God who approaches, who comes to us. If so, how can we sense God drawing close on a balmy summer morning here in inner-city Brisbane? How will we recognise God when they come? 

One of the ways we distinguish the four Sundays of Advent is by naming them: the first Sunday is Hope, today is Peace, then Joy, then Love. We’re saying, aren’t we, that when God comes these things will be in abundance: hope, peace, joy, love. We’re saying, aren’t we, that God desires for us to fully experience these things. And we’re saying that our inner hearts and souls deeply desire true hope, peace, joy and love. Especially today, which is the 75th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. 

Today, our focus is Peace. We’re all aware there’s no peace in the world right now, with wars for example in Ukraine and in several parts of Africa. And in Gaza, homes have been flattened, hospitals, mosques and churches bombed. Food and water are scarce. The whole infrastructure is at the point of collapse, if it hasn’t collapsed already. There’s no peace in Gaza. 

But was there peace before 7 October, when Hamas killed around 1300 Israelis and took over 200 hostages? There was no peace in Gaza. Authorities argue over the precise definition of ‘occupation’, and whether Israel is occupying Gaza; but the ordinary people of Gaza are not free to be at peace, hemmed in by Hamas on the one side and the might of the state of Israel on the other. There hasn’t been peace in Gaza for a lifetime or more. 

Let’s see if today’s readings help us to see more of God’s desire for peace. 

Mark’s Gospel starts with a title: 

The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ the Son of God. 

The Greek word for ‘Gospel’ is euaggelion. The Evangel, the Good News. People were used to hearing a similar word, euaggelia, hearing good tidings; ‘Evangels’ if you like. These good tidings were news of Roman victories over barbarians, news of the birth of a baby destined to be the next caesar. News of what they called the Pax Romana, the Roman Peace. But the Roman Peace was won at the end of the sword. It was sealed with and soaked in the blood of its enemies. 

Mark, the earliest Gospel writer, takes this word for good tidings — euaggelia — and turns it into a singular word, euaggelion, good news. Perhaps Mark was saying that this one piece of good news surpassed all the other good tidings that Rome had to tell. It was good news about Jesus Christ the Son of God. Jesus, who would bring true peace. Not the Pax Romana, peace that dripped the blood of his enemies, but peace that involved him nonviolently submitting to the shedding of his own blood as he stayed the course in the face of mounting opposition from the powers that be. 

How does God draw near? God draws near where there is true peace. God brings peace, God is peace. We don’t recognise God in news of cities bombed, of soldiers or civilians killed, of supply routes disrupted; we recognise God as we hear of people who willingly give of themselves for others. They may even be people we know. 

Brave enough to say Yes

A guest post by Erin Mawhinney, a student minister

Reading
Luke 1.39–55

Back in early November, when Paul and I were chatting about Advent and Christmas services at West End this year, he asked me if I would like to preach again, and I nabbed today, Advent 4, totally because of the gospel reading. This is one of my favourite passages, for a few reasons. There are many cool things going on here; connections between Old and New Testaments, between people — the parallels, the contrasts, the rare occasion of not one, but two women in the bible getting some dialogue and proclaiming some GOOD NEWS, but actually, the strongest connection that I have with this passage, the first time it really meant something to me, was the day I read it out the front at my church (like Chris did just now) back when I was pregnant with my first child. 

…

Now, 23 years later, with some more ‘life experience’, many extra hours of reading, lectures, theology study, and a tiny bit more theological understanding, it will still always be that shared sense of excitement, amazement, and absolute wonder of that first pregnancy that resonates with me in this passage.

But first, let’s look at some background context:

I like the way that the author of this gospel sets up the story here. Here we have two pregnant women in a joyful meeting — both pregnant in unusual circumstances, both named in this passage, and both speaking of the nature of God. The passages before this in the first chapter of Luke give us some interesting parallels and contrasts:  

The Angel Gabriel first appears to Zechariah, a priest, to tell him in a cool OT-formula kind of way that he and his wife Elizabeth will have a son, despite Elizabeth ‘being barren’ and getting on in years (cf OT story of Abraham and Sarah). The angel also tells Zechariah a few things about who this baby will grow up to be (John the Baptiser) and what he will do. This is an answer to prayer for Zechariah and Elizabeth… Zechariah can’t quite get his head around it at first, but Elizabeth said ‘this is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favourably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.’ (Luke 1:25)

And in the next passage, the Angel Gabriel again appears, this time to Mary, and following this same OT formula, Gabe tells her that she has ‘found favour with God’ (Luke 1:30) and that she, too, will have a son:

The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.’ (v30-33) 

Mary has one small question — ‘how can this be? I’m a virgin!’  

Angel Gabriel: ‘Yeah, the Holy Spirit. Oh, and btw Elizabeth is pregnant too, for nothing will be impossible with God.’ 

Mary:  *expresses humble obedience*

Cue the start of today’s passage.

Joy, Judgement, Joy

Readings

Zephaniah 3.14–20
Isaiah 12.2–6
Philippians 4.4≠7
Luke 3.7–18

Superficiality is the curse of our age. The doctrine of instant satisfaction is a primary spiritual problem. The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people. — Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline

———————-

Advent is a time of anticipation. Anticipation of Christmas, yes,
but also anticipation of Jesus coming into our lives here and now,
and a wider anticipation — that of Jesus coming into the life of the world as God’s kingdom dawns. 

If you look at the banners we put up Sunday by Sunday during Advent, you’ll see one way of thinking about anticipating Jesus is to celebrate themes of 

Hope
Peace
Joy, and next week
Love. 

But there’s an older way of thinking about how we anticipate Jesus’ coming. Another four-way system for the four weeks of Advent:

Death
Judgement
Heaven, and
Hell. 

Today is the ‘Joy’ Sunday; but our Gospel Reading sounds notes of Judgement (‘you brood of vipers’) or even Hell (‘unquenchable fire’). 

When shall I talk about today? Joy — or Judgement? Which would you rather? 

Let’s talk about Joy. Or should it be Judgement? 

No, let’s talk about Joy. 

Then Judgement. 

Most of the lectionary passages for today are big on joy. In Philippians 4.4, Paul says 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Zephaniah (3.14) says 

Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!

(You’ve got to realise that Zephaniah was usually a pretty gloomy prophet. He could almost have been a very dour type of Presbyterian, sent back in time.) 

And lastly, I’ll mention Isaiah. One of my favourite verses in the whole Bible, Isaiah 12.3: 

With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation.

I just love that picture of a deep well, an inexhaustible well, full of the living water Jesus proclaimed to the Samaritan woman in John 4. With joy we shall draw everlasting, clear, refreshing, cool water from the wells of salvation! 

Joy of course is more than happiness. Joy is a deep feeling, it’s linked to satisfaction and fulfilment and peace. You can’t buy joy, or grab it, or enter into negotiations for it. 

We are happy because we get something nice for Christmas. But Joy comes to those who are able to receive it. Who are they who can receive Joy? 

This brings us to John the Baptist. 

John is an unpromising figure to find anything to speak about joy. His first words in this reading are 

You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?

Gosh John, tell us what you really think! Couldn’t we have a bit more about Joy please? 

‘In the wilderness’

Reading
Luke 3.1–6

In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1.78–79)

———————-

You won’t be surprised to hear things are different at our house. We have welcomed our new overlords recently-arrived from Chile, in the shape of a six-year old granddaughter and a one-year old grandson. 

One of the many changes is that we watch a lot less TV news these days. Miss six continually asks ‘What are they talking about?’, which is distracting. And often we really don’t want to tell her what they are talking about, we’d rather spare her the details at this stage of her life. 

What about the late news, you ask? We are in bed, exhausted. 

So when the younger members of our family went away for a couple of days this week, I had the chance to look at the news. Just in time for the Jenkins Report. 

Kate Jenkins is the Australian Sex Discrimination Commissioner which has just released Set the Standard, the final report from the Independent Review into Commonwealth Parliamentary Workplaces. 

51% of people working in Commonwealth Parliamentary Workplaces ‘have experienced at least one incident of bullying, sexual harassment or actual or attempted sexual assault’, (Tweet from Kate Jenkins, 30.11.21) while 77% had experienced, witnessed or heard about such behaviour. Less that a quarter of people said they were unaware.

Most of the people victimised are junior workers who have sometimes (often?) been warned that if they were to speak out, there would be unwanted consequences for them. Most of the victims are young women. Brittany Higgins and Grace Tame have become household names because of their bravery in speaking out. Rachelle Miller may soon be another. 

Many (most?) of the perpetrators are Very Important Men. 

I mention this because of a detail in our Gospel Reading: it lists a number of Very Important Men. Listen to it once more: 

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

(Ok, it’s more than a detail, it’s almost half the reading ….)

There are all these important names, but my point is: the word of God did not come to any of them. Luke could have just cut to the chase and left their names out: ‘the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.’

So, what are those names doing there then? 

The names do set this passage in history. Tiberius was emperor from 14–37 CE. He was an able army general, but not such a great emperor. Herod was not the Herod who sought to kill the baby boys at Bethlehem but his son, Herod Antipas. This Herod was ruler of Galilee for 43 years, until 39 CE; it was this Herod who had John the Baptist executed. Pontius Pilate we know. He was Procurator of Judaea from around 26–36 CE. He gets a cameo appearance in the Creeds; Jesus ‘was crucified under Pontius Pilate’. Annas and Caiaphas were priests involved in Jesus’ conviction and death. 

Who’s left? Philip and Lysanias? You can google them. 

The names of these Very Important Men anchor John the Baptist in history. That’s important, but it’s not the main reason they are there. 

The main reason Luke put them there is to show that John is a prophet of Israel in the tradition of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Hosea, Micah and the rest. 

Let me show you. Here is the first verse of the Book of the prophet Isaiah: 

The vision of Isaiah son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah.

Or Hosea, very similar: 

The word of the LORD that came to Hosea son of Beeri, in the days of Kings Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah of Judah, and in the days of King Jeroboam son of Joash of Israel.

You’ll see others just by looking at chapter 1 verse 1 of the a good proportion of the prophets of the Hebrew Scriptures. The prophets tended to announce their words in the context of a particular time. 

Luke is listing these names to say John was a prophet, just as the others were.

That’s why Luke put those names there. But — in the light of the Jenkins Report — could we perhaps see another reason? 

The word of God came to John ‘in the wilderness’. 

The word of God did not come to someone in Caesar’s palace, nor did it come in the courts of the great Temple of Jerusalem. 

Not in the hallways of power, where ‘The Prime Minister has my firm and unwavering support’ is code for a leadership spill in just a few days. 

Nor in the the Parliament House chapel, seemingly used more as an assignation point than a place of prayer. 

Not in the grubby, leaking cesspit the Australian Parliament has been revealed to be. 

Today’s Gospel quotes the prophet Isaiah. (Maybe Luke saw John as carrying on the work of Isaiah?) We read, 

The voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.…’

There are plenty in the wilderness today; some of them are women who entered service in Parliament House in their younger years with very high hopes. 

But how do we ‘prepare the way of the Lord’? John the Baptist would say we do it by repentance. By turning around and going in a different direction. By changing our ways. 

Our nation’s institutions certainly need to repent, but maybe we do too. We may in our own way look for power over others, or to take advantage of someone else. We may be more concerned with advancement in our career than what the Holy Spirit may be saying to us. 

In the end, that’s why the word comes to John ‘in the wilderness’. It is there that he found space to breathe, to listen, to rethink things, to realise the love of God, and then to act. 

Our wildernesses may not be literal. They may include fear of the future in an age of climate change. They may be times of loss or grief. Times when things just aren’t necessarily going to plan. It’s then that we too can find that space to breathe, to listen, to rethink things, to realise the love of God. And then, to act to remake the future in the light of the word we have heard from God. 

If you are in the wilderness, when you find yourself there, you are not alone. Jesus went into the wilderness too. Don’t run away. Be still, listen for his voice. It speaks to you. 

West End Uniting Church, 5 December 2021

’That Day’ is Today

Readings
Jeremiah 33.14–16
Luke 21.25–36

Those who are familiar with Scripture will recognise that yearning for a future free from surprises is, down deep, actually a desire to be free of God. If our predicting the future is really only a projection of what we already know and who we already are, then we are imagining a future inhabited only by our powers and desires, one that we humans can dominate and control. But the living God seen in the Bible is a God full of surprises, one who since Eden has frustrated all human efforts to eliminate unpredictability. ‘Do not remember the former things,’ God says. ‘I am about to do a new thing’ (Isa. 43.18–19) — Thomas G Long, Donyelle CS McCray, A Surprising God

———————-

Listen again to the words of Jesus: 

Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap.

‘That day…’ What ‘day’ is that?

We have to backtrack a bit to see how Luke describes ‘that day’. 

Luke says that day is when 

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.

Then Luke says, 

People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.

This is a poetic way of writing about what people often call the Second Coming of Jesus. It uses this poetic language to show it is something earth-shattering, rather than as a literal description. It is using images to describe something unimaginable, not telling us what we would see if we were ‘there’.

I may need to explain that a little. Let me do that by reading you a passage from the Old Testament. It’s from 2 Samuel 22. David says:

…the earth reeled and rocked;
the foundations of the heavens trembled
and quaked, because [God] was angry.
 Smoke went up from his nostrils,
and devouring fire from his mouth;
glowing coals flamed forth from him. 

[God] bowed the heavens, and came down;
thick darkness was under his feet. 

He rode on a cherub, and flew;
he was seen upon the wings of the wind.

What event is David describing? It is a battle, a victory against his enemy the Philistines. What would we have see if we were there? We would have seen death, sometimes slow and agonising; we would have smelt blood and heard the cries of dying men; but the earth itself would stay firmly in place. We would not see fire coming from the mouth of God, nor would we see God riding on a cherub. 

David doesn’t talk about the body count; he doesn’t describe it in the way a war correspondent may. David tells of the battle in the language of epic poetry.

So when we read of ‘that day’, the poetic images tell us that something earth-shattering is going to happen. But: they don’t tell us ‘exactly’ what will happen.

And what’s more: we don’t know when ‘that day’ will be either.

How does that sit with you? Are you happy with not knowing when ‘that day’ will come? Or even what will happen?

Uncertainty often gives rise to discomfort. Through the centuries, people have tried to manage their discomfort by searching for hidden clues in obscure texts and twisting them together to find the answer as to when ‘that day’ will come.

So they investigate the scriptures just like Sherlock Holmes may investigate a case. And then they say to the rest of us, ‘Elementary, my dears! Jesus is returning at 10.20am on 28 November 2021.’ 

(That’s shortly after the end of this sermon. Not long to wait now …)

Some Christian circles just cannot help themselves. They won’t rest till they pin ‘that day’ down.

And they’ve been trying since the very early days.

What is ‘the Gospel’?

Readings
Isaiah 40.1–11
Mark 1.1–8

Because John’s preaching of repentance is a call to align one’s thoughts and actions with the new social order made known through the life-act and teachings of Jesus, the fruit of repentance results in a change in the way people think about and view others, especially the despised and marginalised. — Jennifer M McBride, Radical Discipleship: A Liturgical Politics of the Gospel

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We talk about ‘the Gospel’. But just what is the Gospel? One of the formative experiences I had as a young Christian was on a weekend camp up at Mt Tamborine. The speaker told us this: the Gospel is the good news of the kingdom of God; personal salvation is a by-product of the Gospel. We shouldn’t worry, he said about whether we are saved; the Gospel is about living as part of God’s kingdom, now. And this brings the awareness of being accepted in Jesus Christ.

I was truly shocked when I first hear this. I couldn’t believe my ears. I had been formed as a Christian to see the Gospel as all about me being saved, all about my personal salvation, about going to heaven when I die. 

The reason I bring this up today is that the first chapter of the Gospel According to Mark points us in quite a different direction from the usual, individual, evangelical view of salvation. 

Mark starts like this: 

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

This is a title. It could be the title of the whole Gospel, or just a kind of chapter heading for this first part. 

The Greek word for ‘good news’ in Mark’s title is the same word as gospel. The Gospel is good news. 

This word ‘gospel’ was well known back in the day. Usually it was ‘good news’ about a military victory, as when Rome conquered another group of people, or if there was a new caesar. 

This good news wasn’t about caesar though; it was about an unknown from the backwoods who got a following, did some miracles, but then was crucified as a threat to Roman power. 

So, Mark begins his Gospel with a political statement. A subversive statement. This is good news about someone the Romans thought they had got rid of, crucified, dead and buried; it is good news to his disciples, then and now, because they have found him to be risen from the dead and present to them by his Spirit.  

So, this good news is not about Rome, its empire, or about caesar. It’s good news about an enemy of the state. It’s subversive. 

Mark continues his subversive mood by quoting the Hebrew Scriptures: 

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,
Behold, I send my messenger before your face,
who will prepare your way,
the voice of one crying in the wilderness:
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight …

Mark says this comes from Isaiah, but not all of it does; the first couple of lines come from the Books of Exodus and Malachi. 

‘You have hidden your face from us’

Readings
Isaiah 64.1–9
Mark 13.24–37

 

Truly, you are a God who hides himself,
O God of Israel, the Saviour. — Isaiah 45.15

_________________

It’s Advent, one of those times of year we don’t quite know what to do. Do we have a jolly time thinking about Christmas? Do we focus — as our ancestors may have done — on the ‘four last things’? (Oh, and what are the four last things? They are death, judgement, heaven and hell. Sounds bleakish …) 

We’re not going to go retro with the four last things, but still, there are some pretty bleak words in our reading from Isaiah. Listen: 

There is no one who calls on your name,
or attempts to take hold of you;
for you have hidden your face from us,
and have delivered us into the hand
  of our iniquity.

In these last chapters of Isaiah, we encounter people who are disappointed and struggling. The Jewish people had come home from exile in Babylon, hoping and expecting to rebuild the Temple and be a great nation once again. But this cherished hope had barely borne fruit. Time had passed, the rebuilt Temple wasn’t a patch on the old one, the people were dispirited and under pressure from the nations around them. 

You have hidden your face from us …

In times past, God had delivered the Israelites from Egypt in the Exodus. And centuries later, God had brought them back from the Babylonian Exile. Yet now God was hidden from them. The great things God had done in the past were just that. Past, and gone. Isaiah cries out to God to do what God used to do in the old stories. He invokes the stories of Moses before God on Mount Sinai:  

O that you would tear open the heavens
  and come down,
so that the mountains would quake
  at your presence …

God, you used to act like a real god! You used to do things! Do something now! Come and fix things around here! 

Emmanuel, God with us

Readings
Isaiah 7.10–16
Matthew 1.18–25

Word of Love,
  enter our hearts
  as you entered the virgin’s womb.
  Come, Lord Jesus!

Madeleine L’Engle, Miracle on 10^th St

———————

I’ve been trying to preach from Isaiah during Advent, and I’m going to at least start in Isaiah today. We’ve come to a well-known verse: it’s Isaiah 7.14.

Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.

What’s does that mean? What was Isaiah talking about? Let’s see, shall we? Isaiah was addressing Ahaz, the king of Judah. Ahaz was facing a difficult situation.  

Back then, about 800 BC, the country we know as Israel was divided in two. The northern part was called Israel; the southern part was Judah. Judah was under military threat from Israel and also from Syria, which is where Syria is today. Israel and Syria wanted a three-nation alliance to fight off an invasion from an invasion from Assyria, which is where Iraq is now. 

The city of Jerusalem was in Judah, and that’s where Isaiah and Ahaz were. Isaiah’s prophetic word was for King Ahaz to trust God, rather than form any kind of military alliance. 

That’s enough history. Ahaz was in a pickle, Isaiah was counselling him to trust in God. And Isaiah says, 

Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.

It can be anything in all creation! Ask away, Ahaz! 

But Ahaz replies, 

I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test. 

What an interesting answer! It’s pious (‘I will not put the Lord to the test’). It also neatly avoids having anything to do with God.

Ahaz must have been to diplomacy school. 

Isaiah isn’t satisfied though. So, he says,

the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.  

Strengthen the weak hands…

Reading
Isaiah 35.1–10

 

To spend time in Advent in the company of the prophets is to open ourselves up to the great and costly truth that the world is God’s and can be lived in peaceably and joyfully only by people who know who they are and whose they are. In that sense, we are all called to be prophets, in that we point to the bigger narrative of which we are a part; we point towards the action of God in Jesus Christ, and prepare ourselves to live in the world that God has made. — Jane Williams, The Art of Advent, Day 8

———————

In some Advent traditions, today is Gaudete Sunday, Joyful Sunday. It comes from an old tradition of Advent as a time of repentance leading up to the celebration of Christmas. At one time, Advent was a time to think on the ‘Four Last Things’: Death, Judgement, Heaven and Hell. For some, Advent is still a time of fasting, like Lent. 

So the Third Sunday of Advent became a little break from the focus on the Four Last Things, a time to focus on joy. One sign of that can be a pink candle, though ours is still purple. (One thing I’ve decided: God is less concerned with the colours we use that almost anything else. The colours are for our benefit, not for God’s.) 

Giving you this potted history helps to understand why the readings for the Third Sunday of Advent direct us to joy. Isaiah 35 begins,

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;
like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.

I wish that were the case right now in Australia. Instead, the land burns and is laid waste, and the powers that be do anything except address the issue. Perhaps true joy, deep joy, comes once hardship is faced and lives changed so that we can feel a worthwhile, lasting joy—along with peace and hope and love, the Advent themes that we are more familiar with. 

Perhaps there’s no joy until we face the pain of our land, which goes beyond those unprecedented fires. This pain includes the frontier wars that decimated the first peoples, who today are still not recognised as they should be. This pain is a result of greed, which means that water is not allocated properly. 

Pain runs deep in our country, and it will not be patched over. Until the roots of its pain are addressed, we shall not know true joy. 

Advent is about looking for Jesus as he comes to us; does he come to us in painful times? Is he ‘Emmanuel, God with us’ through those times? 

Swords into ploughshares

Readings
Isaiah 2.1–5
Matthew 24.36–44

 

Our nature is goodness. Yes, we do much that is bad, but our essential nature is good. If it were not, then we would not be shocked and dismayed when we harm one another. When someone does something ghastly, it makes the news because it is the exception to the rule. We live surrounded by so much love, kindness, and trust that we forget it is remarkable. Forgiveness is the way we return what has been taken from us and restore the love and kindness and trust that has been lost. With each act of forgiveness, whether small or great, we move toward wholeness. Forgiveness is nothing less than how we bring peace to ourselves and our world. — Desmond Tutu, Mpho Tutu, The Book of Forgiving

———————-

Isaiah the prophet wrote this: 

God shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more. Isaiah 2.4

Well, Isaiah, someone might say—if you’re going to dream, dream big. 

Let’s look at this verse a bit more. It doesn’t only tell us about whatever dreams Isaiah may have had: it tells us of God. 

God shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples…

Nations have gone to war with other nations for centuries. Often—far too often—they claim that God is on their side. They pray for God to make them victorious, and to grind their enemies into the dust. 

Yet in Isaiah’s vision, when God judges between the nations, it is for peace. Not for victory for some or defeat for others. God is the God of peace. When God arbitrates, when God is the umpire, God decides for peace. No one wins, no one loses. Instead,

they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning hooks…